emBracing Curiosity

“Emmy!  Emmy!  Emmy! Emmy!”  That is rapidly becoming one of my very favorite things to hear, which is saying something because I typically detest being called “Emmy”.  However when it’s coming out of the mouth of a 28 pound, 31 inch tall blonde haired boy it’s an entirely different story.  My nephew Jeremiah has me so tightly wrapped around his finger (and I’m sure he knows it, he’s brilliant after all) that he could call me practically anything and I’d love it.  After the yelling of names and running towards each other we end up hand to foot, his hands braced against the bottoms of my feet.  As he pulls my feet apart (I say “he” because he tries, but really I do the heavy lifting) to clear room on my chair to sit with me I pull him up sit on my lap.  After I force him to give me a hug he settles in on my lap between my braces and we’re off.  Jer has been sitting with me in my chair since the day he was born, and I always thought that as he grew up into a little person he wouldn’t want to, or he wouldn’t sit still as I turn the wheels.  However it’s just the opposite, it isn’t until I stop moving that he gets antsy, most likely thinking that if he wiggles around enough the chair will magically start to move again.

As one would anticipate the more Jer develops the more he discovers about the world he lives in, thus making him more curious about his aunt who’s different than everybody.  I tend to be fairly oblivious to how people perceive my chair, but I’m trying to be more conscious about that – partly because it’s just plain interesting to know what others think of you and why they think it.  The first time I remember my disability causing Jer to think is when he was sitting on my lap while I had my braces on.  I wear full length (foot to upper thigh) braces with lockable knee joints.  My braces are like weirdly shaped metal legs – not super comfy to lean against.  One day Jer climbed up on my lap, settled in his usual place and suddenly got this very disgusted look on his face.  He hit my brace, squawked something in baby gibberish that I’m sure meant, “Dude Auntie Em what’s with the hard legs?!?”, and then he grabbed the end of my pant leg and tried to inspect what was making my lap feel different.  The tailoring of my pants didn’t allow him to inspect my braces much though, which frustrated him for about half of a millisecond and then life moved on.

A few days later we were at my house and I went into my room to grab something.  As I’ve come to expect Jer followed after me to inspect everything he could get his hands on.  There on my floor laid my braces and I saw a teachable moment.  I encouraged him to manipulate them, pull the Velcro straps, slide the knee locks, knock on the hard fiberglass backs.  After he was done inspecting them I put one on over my non-braced, pajama clad leg so he could see.  He stared with wide eyes as he watched my normal legs put a different costume on.  Once braced I pulled him up on my lap like we normally would so he could see what he feels when he sits on my lap. 

Knowing that the chances of him remembering all the discoveries he made that afternoon were slim I still felt it important to encourage him to make those connections.  I’ve never had the opportunity to be the sole person that someone bases their opinion about people in wheelchairs on.  Spending so much time with Jer has really spurred me to be cognizant of how the perceptions of people are crafted.  My hope is that he grows up with a healthy curiosity about not only what makes people different, but about his entire world.  I want him to not only wonder and question, but be mindful enough to try and understand that which he doesn’t know.  What a different place the world would be if as much as people questioned, they allowed themselves to learn and be taught with an attitude of understanding and not simply knowing.